Subject: Well, now, that's a yee-haw from me.
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Posted on: 2019-12-10 11:19:16 UTC

Taff might be the rarest of rare breeds. There's not a lot of Welshmen on the frontier, and those that are are mostly holed up down in Utah with the rest of the Mormonites. There's only one as knows what led Taff to lay aside his scriptures and take up a Native bow to fight corruption from Nebraska to Oregon - and she's not talking.

Connie's heard all the jokes - how many mamas did she have, any angels come calling recently, has Brother Brigham asked her father for her hand yet? Back when she spent her days tending dysentery sufferers where the Oregon Trail meets Utah Territory, she met all such questions with the smile and polite laugh that's expected of a young lady. Now, since taking up ('shacking up', the rumours say, though not in her hearing) with Taff and the Protectors, she's more experienced with gunshot wounds - and has a revolver of her own to answer such impertinence.

They call Morgan the toughest man ever born a woman. With his (never 'her' - not when there's shooting to be done) hair soot-blackened to match his coat, all you'll see of him on a dark night is his trademark gold sash catching the firelight - his hefty six-shooter that's more of a handheld cannon - and the flash of twin bullets heading your way. One for the heart-side, one for the far-side; it's the only way to be sure.

~

I apologise for the endless stream of references up there. Good grief.

Resisting the temptation to draw Terrible Beard Dafydd now.

hS

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